


Primal

by theonetruenorth



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Magnus Bane, Druids, Embedded Images, M/M, Nature Magic, Outdoor Sex, Powerful Magnus Bane, Rituals, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetruenorth/pseuds/theonetruenorth
Summary: Magnus carefully releases the tight hold he has over his self-control and lets himself just feel. He lets go of Alec’s back, splaying his arms wide on the ground. He digs his fingers into the dirt, connecting to the earth.It hits him like a sledgehammer and he gasps. It’s a frantic sort of gasp, the kind that makes Alec stop and look at him.“Magnus?” Alec asks, searching the warlock’s face for any sign of things going bad.Magnus’ eyes are free of their glamour but they are… different. Still cat-like, but more green than gold, shining with magic and power hiding behind them.





	Primal

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Primal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934011) by [Batty_Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batty_Blue/pseuds/Batty_Blue)



> This is one of my attempts at powerful!Magnus.
> 
> Apologies in advance to anyone who is a practitioner of pagan religion. I don’t think I wrote anything offensive here, but if I did, let me know - my knowledge comes from google, and we all know how that can turn out.

The fire message appears on the desk in front of Magnus while he lounges on his sofa, a thick spell book propped up on his chest. Alec is on the balcony, watering the plants Magnus uses for potions.

“Who is it?” Alec asks after hearing the telltale rustle of paper. Magnus is quiet as he reads but as the silence stretches on, Alec finally looks over his shoulder. “Magnus?”

The warlock’s expression is indescribable.

“Bad news?” The nephilim sets the watering can on the windowsill as he enters the living room.

“Ah, no,” Magnus finally answers even as he sets the paper in his hands ablaze again, getting rid of it. “Just a reminder of something I totally forgot about.”

“What is it?” Alec shifts Magnus’ legs off the couch so that he can sit down, then drops them in his lap again. His hand on Magnus’ ankle is warm.

Magnus looks at him for a long moment and Alec can almost see him thinking, as if weighing some unknown pros and cons of telling Alec the truth. The book lays forgotten on his chest.

“There is a ritual for summer solstice I used to take part in. While I don’t usually have much use for nature magic, it’s a convenient boost to my core. It also rejuvenates the natural place of power the ritual takes place in. The druids that take care of the ritual invite different warlocks every year and my turn is up every ten years or so. It totally slipped my mind that it would be this year.”

“Summer solstice?” Alec wonders out loud. “That’s only a week away. Will you go?”

“I can refuse. It’s just a courtesy, not an obligation that I have made a contract for.” Magnus shrugs. “The druids won’t really have much problem with finding a different warlock.”

“But you want to go,” Alec says. His fingers stroking over the skin of Magnus’ ankle are pleasantly distracting.

“Yes,” Magnus sighs, “it would be beneficial for me to attend.”

“Then what’s the problem? What’s stopping you?”

Magnus sighs again.

“This particular ritual for Litha is performed with a partner.” Magnus’ mouth quirks into a slight smirk as Alec just looks at him expectantly. “It’s sex magic.”

Oh.

Alec is by no means a blushing virgin anymore, but it seems old habits die hard as his cheeks flush a pretty shade of rose.

“Like I said, it’s not something I need to do.” Magnus picks up his book. “I’ll message the druids in the morning and tell them to find a different warlock.”

Magnus doesn’t expect Alec to push the book down onto his chest again.

“But if you do this ritual your magic will be stronger.” Alec’s expression is a mix of concern and suspicion. It’s not really a question, but Magnus feels that he should answer it anyways.

“It will provide me with some extra ‘oomph’ for some time, yes.”

“Then we should go.”

Magnus blinks once, twice, three times before he finds his voice again.

“Pardon?”

“We should go,” Alec repeats, holding Magnus’ gaze for a moment before casting his eyes down again. “I-- I’m not into exhibitionism, but I would never take away anything from you.” Alec shrugs before continuing. “Magnus, you use your magic to heal. To fight Valentine’s forces. Why would I deny you anything that adds to your powers?”

Magnus’ surprise melts away, shifting into something else, something that blooms warmly in his chest and coils around his heart. This boy, this beautiful young man is his and Magnus can’t suppress his fond, happy smile. A shadowhunter with a heart of gold, willing to forgo personal comfort so that others might get what they need.

“Fortunately, we don’t have to test the limits of your exhibitionism, my dear Alexander.” Magnus reaches out so that he can cup Alec’s chin and make him look up. “The ritual is private and no one will be there to observe us. Apart from occasional nocturnal wildlife, maybe.”

“Not even those.” Alec breathes out, shifting on the couch until he can lie on top of Magnus, nesting between his legs. Magnus accommodates him graciously, his book tumbling to the floor. “I don’t feel like sharing you.”

 

* * *

 

They portal to a meadow in the middle of the Białowieża National Park, the last primeval forest in Europe. The place of the ritual changes every half of a century, so Magnus is familiar with the current setting. They are greeted by a group of druids. Alec has never really met druids before, as they are secretive and reclusive people not interested in the affairs of the modern world, much less in Nephilim and Downworlder affairs. This group consists only of men, all in different ages, from an elderly druid who looks to be about a hundred years old, to a boy who couldn’t be more than ten.

There are others in the meadow as well, all fey folk, from what Alec can see. There are elves and sprites and satyrs. Near the edge of the clearing there’s a group of dryads, talking excitedly in their own language, pointing towards something in the treetops. Alec can’t see what it is.

He’s pretty sure he just saw a unicorn in between the trees.

Right. No pressure.

“Welcome, Warlock Bane.” A middle-aged druid approaches them when the portal blinks out of existence. “It’s an honor to see you again.”

“Erwan!” Magnus exclaims jovially as the distance between them closes. “I swear you haven’t aged a day!”

Which is a blatant lie and they all know it.

“I see you lead the coven now,” Magnus observes as he bends his head and allows Erwan to place a wreath of flowers on it, red and white honeysuckle and ivy. He doesn’t seem to be surprised by it, though Alec feels a little taken aback.

That is, until he feels something tug at his pants.

He looks down and there’s a small boy there, the youngest of the group that Alec hasn’t seen until now. He looks to be about five or six, some of the baby fat still visible on his cheeks. He has golden hair, blue eyes, and the most adorable, determined expression Alec has seen since Max was that age.

The boy holds up a wreath of blue roses and white carnations and Alec suddenly understands the solemn tenacity on the boy’s face. He crouches down until he’s at the little druid’s level and patiently waits until the boy places the flower crown on his head.

“Thank you,” Alec says. There’s some embarrassment blooming in his chest - he’s sure Izzy would commit murder for the chance to see him like this - but it quickly melts away when he sees the sunny smile that the child gives him. He’s missing his two front teeth.

“I hope we have arranged everything to your liking,” Erwan says after the boy skips away to the rest of the group. Alec’s crown is a little lopsided on his head, so Magnus reaches up and corrects it.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” Magnus smiles at the sight of the glare that Alec sends him and then turns toward the druid again, patting the bag he has slung over his shoulder. “And if there’s something missing I’m pretty sure I have everything I need right here.”

Erwan leads his people away and the faeries follow them. Magnus leads Alec in the opposite direction, deeper into the forest. They walk for about fifteen minutes or so, until they reach another clearing in the woods.

Alec feels his breath catch.

In the middle of the meadow stands an enormous oak tree, easily hundreds of years old. Underneath it there’s a small stone altar and a selection of ingredients and bowls that Magnus will use for the ritual. The meadow is lit up by what seems to be hundreds of candles, placed in a wide circle around the tree.

Somehow, the sight of this makes Alec nervous. He’s not sure he can go through with this.

“Calm down, darling,” Magnus says as if he can sense Alec’s anxiousness. His hand finds its way to Alec’s and the nephilim squeezes it, maybe a little too tightly. “There’s really no need to worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alec mumbles, more to himself than to Magnus.

And it’s true. In some ways, it _is_ easier for him.

As Magnus explained to him, the ritual is designed to rejuvenate the source of power deep within the earth by channeling it through the warlock. Their connection to magic is unique. Since they are half-human, they can perform spells of dual nature - both good and those perceived as evil. Nature magic is, at its core, neutral. It represents balance, which is why it needs both. Magnus’ origin makes it even more special, since his blood is both demonic and angelic.

The warlock performing the ritual receives a huge amount of additional energy that expands their magical core and replenishes it.

But, as it is with every great magic, there are some risks involved.

It’s extremely easy for the warlock to lose themselves to the allure of magic that is so unlike everything else. It’s not uncommon for their souls to join the forest, leaving their bodies behind.

It scares Alec more than he’s willing to admit.

“It’s going to be okay,” Magnus says when Alec’s mouth sets into a thin, unhappy line. “We can still go back. It’s not like the world will end if the ritual doesn’t get performed.”

“No.” Alec shakes his head. “We can do this.”

“I know we can.” Magnus smiles, his fingers wrapping gently in the fabric of Alec’s shirt and he pulls him down for a kiss. “I know that you can be my anchor. I trust you.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus takes his time to prepare.

He places a ward stone he created at home in the middle of the meadow and activates it. It’s more for Alec’s comfort than his own - it keeps away every living soul in a mile radius, making it impossible for anyone to sneak up and watch them.

A small wooden table and a pair of chairs are set up, just as he requested. There’s an ornate-looking bottle of water with two taps and after a wink in Alec’s direction, Magnus prepares their drinks.

“Absinthe.” Alec raises one eyebrow at him. “Really, Magnus?”

“Have you ever had any?” Magnus asks as he sets the water to drip steadily on the sugar cubes and into two glasses underneath. The water turns milky green, mixing with the alcohol already poured in.

“No.”

“Then don’t diss it until you’ve tried it.”

It turns out, Alec _does_ like it. The taste is sweet and syrupy on his tongue and the alcohol starts to make him feel loose-limbed and less nervous as it spreads through his veins.

His state of relaxation might also have something to do with the warlock currently straddling his lap as he sits in one of the chairs.

They trade kisses for a while, pressed together as close as they can be. It’s lazy and slow, the summer evening air keeping them warm. Magnus chases the taste of absinthe in Alec’s mouth and Alec rubs gently at the soft skin at the small of Magnus’ back.

Magnus leaves him alone to sit in the chair as he draws runes on the trees with coal and chalk and creates a runic array on the stone altar. The smell of pine incense is permeating. Alec watches as Magnus mixes herbs, flowers, and dirt in various bowls, setting some of them aflame as he recites a chant. He doesn’t recognize the language, but it sounds Slavic, which makes sense, given their location. It’s a genuine pleasure to watch Magnus at work, clearly in his element. He’s beautiful in his focus, every movement graceful and purposeful; an indication of the years of experience he has in magical arcana.

When it’s finally time to lose their clothes, Alec is still somewhat nervous but not as much as before.

“Are we going to leave those on?” Alec looks at the honeysuckle and ivy still resting on Magnus’ head. The warlock’s fingers pop the buttons of his jeans.

“As fetching as you look in it,” Magnus laughs as he lifts the blue and white wreath from Alec’s head, “I think it’s best if we take them off, otherwise they will just end up ruined.”

When they are naked, Magnus leads him to a spot in front of the stone altar, underneath the branches of the giant oak. They kneel and Alec is pleasantly surprised to find the soft grass and moss underneath them.

“Brown is for the earth. Green is for the trees,” Magnus says as he grabs two bowls with a different shades of clay and uses his fingers to paint lines over his and Alec’s arms.

“Red is for the fire.” He switches to a different bowl and paints runes on their shoulders. “Orange is for strength.” The next set of symbols appear on their chests and with a small, wicked smile, Magnus paints them over the fresh stamina rune on Alec’s skin.

“Yellow is for happiness and sunlight.” Magnus smears the dye over their necks and Alec can feel it now, the buzz of _something_ in the air, like a scent he can’t really name. The air grows heavy with it and suddenly Alec realizes he can’t hear anything around them. No night bird, no insects chirping, not even rush of wind in the treetops. Nothing.

The forest is completely quiet.

“Gold is for the sun,” Magnus whispers as takes the final bowl. He makes a single dot of color on Alec’s forehead and after a moment of hesitation, he also paints lines around the outer corners of Alec’s eyes.

“I guess that’s the closest I will see you to wearing gold glitter.” Magnus says as he banishes the bowls with a gesture of his hand.

“Painting my eyes isn’t a part of the ritual, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

“I will make you pay for that later,” Alec promises.

“I know. I’m counting on it.” Magnus smirks. “Now kiss me, darling.”

It’s easier than breathing, coming together like this. Alec wraps his hands around Magnus’ waist and pulls him closer, claiming his lips in a hungry, nearly desperate kiss.

As Alec tilts them so that Magnus ends up on his back in the soft grass, the warlock snaps his fingers and summons the oil from the bag he brought. He’s not sure he will have enough control to do it later and having Alec leave to retrieve it would be cruel to them both.

Magnus groans as their bodies rut together, cocks pressed against each other as they move. The air is hot, like all the heat from the endless sea of candles is now concentrating around them. He wraps his hands around Alec’s chest. His fingers dig into muscles of the nephilim’s back, the remains of the dye mixing with a thin layer of sweat and dripping down Alec’s sides. Alec kisses him in the way that makes Magnus’ toes curl, all tongue and need and passion that zips down Magnus’ spine.

Magnus doesn’t even notice when Alec opens the jar of oil and coats his fingers, but he notices when one of them slips inside of him. He tosses his head back, his eyes closing on their own accord. Alec is kissing his neck and Magnus tilts his head to the side to give him better access. His senses are getting overwhelmed. All that he can smell is the scent of grass, and flowers, and pine incense. All that he can hear is the wild rush of his own blood, a frantic rhythm in his ears.

The only thing he can feel is Alec.

Magnus carefully releases the tight hold he has over his self-control and lets himself just _feel_. He lets go of Alec’s back, splaying his arms wide on the ground. He digs his fingers into the dirt, connecting to the earth.

It hits him like a sledgehammer and he gasps. It’s a frantic sort of gasp, the kind that makes Alec stop and look at him.

“Magnus?” Alec asks, searching the warlock’s face for any sign of things going bad.

Magnus’ eyes are free of their glamour but they are… different. Still cat-like, but more green than gold, shining with magic and power hiding behind them.

Magnus doesn’t reply but draws him in for a kiss instead and Alec jumps a little once the warlock’s hand touches him. It seems like electricity is dancing at the tips of his fingers, small pinpricks of heat and energy that’s slowly gathering in his body. Soft light and wisps of smoke start to emanate from his palms every time he exhales.

Before Alec can realize what’s going on, Magnus rolls them over until Alec is on his back and is being straddled. The warlock twitches, and the skin on his arms and thighs flashes with a hint of scales and then feathers, all for a span of two heartbeats.

“Easy,” Alec says after he shakes off his surprise and recognizes the signs that Magnus told him about, signs that indicate that Magnus is deep in the midst of the ritual now. “I’ve got you.”

Magnus isn’t really capable of speech anymore. The world outside ceases to exist, disappears from his mind underneath the pressure of _here_ and _now_. Nothing is more important than this moment, than the rush of magic underneath his skin, or the sweet, sweet sensation of Alec pushing into him.

Magnus arches his back, the feeling of Alec’s cock filling him like an exquisite torture, something he needs to satisfy the insistent craving for _more_ that sings in his soul. Alec’s hands are on his hips, helping him move and the delicious slow pull and drag is enough and not enough at the same time.

He wants to go faster but Alec doesn’t let him, even when Magnus wraps his arms around the nephilim’s neck and keens, right into his ear.

His skin feels too tight for his own body, and for a moment everything aches as he struggles against his lover’s grip. Alec’s arms are around Magnus’ waist and the younger man keeps whispering something to him but words and speech are beyond Magnus’ understanding now.

He understands the tone of voice, though. It’s low and soft and loving and Magnus finds himself responding to it, the uncomfortable feeling of fire at every single one of his nerve endings washes away with each murmured word.

He comes back to his senses - as much as he can - and feels himself submitting to the wave after wave of pleasure that crashes over him every time Alec pushes into his body. He mewls, head tipping back, Alec’s mouth latching onto him immediately, sucking against his pulse point. Magnus shivers as he can feel the magic pouring into him through his skin, though his open mouth, filling his lungs with every breath he takes.

The pleasure reaches its peak and with an abrupt cry he comes and something in him snaps.

It’s a connection he missed for ten years. He can still vaguely remember how it felt back then and all the time that passed since then doesn’t matter. Somehow, it’s even better now. He can feel _everything_. He can count each and every single one of the candle flames lit around the meadow. There is an owl hunting for prey two miles to the west and he can see through the bird’s eyes as it swoops down for the kill. He is the stream washing over the sharp rocks, the wind that surges through the very tops of the trees, the tree that sinks its roots deep, deep into the dirt.

He feels ephemeral and eternal at the same time. He is light, so light that he floats in the air and high into the crown of the oak tree, ready to join in with the life force that fills up every cell of his being. He no longer has a body, he has branches and roots and fur and feathers. He is everywhere and he is everything and his demonic origin has no importance. This is the only time where everything he is and everything he has done doesn’t matter. Where he is pure and clean and brand new.

In this, he can finally find peace.

Only there is something that nudges against his mind, an insistent thought that nags on him until he has no choice but to turn his gaze away from the stars above and look down. And from his branches he can see the black-haired young man locked in a passionate embrace with him. The love that shines from his eyes is overwhelming and all-consuming and he can remember now, why he can’t leave. This man, this lovely creature with a bright soul is a beacon that shines just for him and calls him back.

There is an infinite stretch of universe above him, filled with stars and life and peace. But it doesn’t have the one thing that Magnus needs more than anything in this world.

The one thing he will always choose, no matter what waits on the other side.

“There you are,” Alec whispers to him as he comes back to his senses and he sounds so relieved that it makes Magnus blink dazedly at him. “You had me worried for a moment.”

Alec lowers them until they are lying on the grass again, Magnus’ head pillowed on his chest.

“You looked like you blacked out there for a second,” Alec says as he runs his fingers over Magnus’ back. They are both filthy; a mix of sweat, and dye, and come on their bodies, but it’s not something that can be immediately fixed.

“I lost the track of time,” Magnus admits, his voice a little scratchy. One of his hands is resting on Alec’s stomach and he rubs his fingers over the warm skin, anchoring himself even further to this reality. His sense of touch still seems hypersensitive. There are half-moons of gold underneath his fingernails. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I told you that I get a little out of it during these rituals.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Alec huffs a quiet, nervous laugh.

And it really, really is a huge understatement. Alec is glad that Magnus thought to warn him beforehand, but it was unsettling either way, seeing him like that.

The way Magnus had looked… Alec doesn’t really have the right words to describe it. Alluring and exquisite, yes, but it was an overwhelming, alarming sort of beauty. There was something feral and primal in his eyes, in every movement of his body. It felt like making love to a great storm, like losing yourself in a force of nature capable of destroying you with a single thought. The closer they got to climax, the wilder the nature got. Wind had blown out all the candles and for a minute Alec thought that even the stars blinked out of existence.

And then, after they both finished, Magnus’ eyes had grown blank -- like he was no longer there. It lasted only a second, but for Alec it felt like ages and his heart nearly stopped in fear that he had lost Magnus forever.

“I didn’t want to leave. You kept me here. Kept me safe.” Magnus murmurs and shifts a little to kiss Alec, a gentle press of his lips that calms them both down with quiet reassurance. It's enough to convey that this is real, that they are both there. All around them the forest is quiet, but the sounds of wildlife slowly return to it. The candles are gone, but in their place hundreds of fireflies fly up from the ground, filling the air with soft yellow lights.

“Good.” Alec runs his fingers through Magnus’ hair, messing it up even more, beyond its already pitiful state. Magnus is pretty sure he can feel twigs in his hair. “But you need to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Magnus looks into his eyes, sees the quiet desperation in them. The fear of being left behind.

He nods.

He lays his head back down on Alec’s chest and keeps listening to his heartbeat as he watches the fireflies dance around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Every fic is first posted to my tumblr and I upload it to AO3 with a delay. If you want to read my stories as soon as I finish them, follow me there: theonetruenorth.tumblr.com
> 
> Beta-read by [RomanceShipper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanceShipper)


End file.
